Page images
PDF
EPUB

SONNETS.

SONNET I.

To the River Trent. Written on Recovery from Sickness.

ONCE more, O TRENT! along thy pebbly marge A pensive invalid, reduced, and pale,

From the close sick-room newly let at large,

Wooes to his wan-worn cheek the pleasant gale.
O! to his ear how musical the tale

Which fills with joy the throstle's little throat!
And all the sounds which on the fresh breeze sail
How wildly novel on his senses float!

It was on this that many a sleepless night,

As, lone, he watched the taper's sickly gleam, And at his casement heard, with wild affright, The owl's dull wing, and melancholy scream, On this he thought, this, this, his sole desire, Thus once again to hear the warbling woodland choir.

SONNET II.

GIVE me a cottage on some Cambrian wild,
Where, far from cities, I may spend my days:

And, by the beauties of the scene beguil'd,
May pity man's pursuits, and shun his ways.

While on the rock I mark the browsing goat,
List to the mountain torrent's distant noise,
Or the hoarse bittern's solitary note,

I shall not want the world's delusive joys;
But, with my little scrip, my book, my lyre,

Shall think my lot complete, nor covet more;
And when, with time, shall wane the vital fire,
I'll raise my pillow on the desart shore,
And lay me down to rest where the wild wave
Shall make sweet music o'er my lonely grave,

SONNET III*.

Supposed to have been addressed by a Female Lunatic to a Lady,

LADY, thou weepest for the Maniac's woe,

And thou art fair, and thou, like me, art young,
Oh may thy bosom never, never know,
.The

pangs with which

my

wretched heart is wrung.

I had a mother once-a brother too—

(Beneath yon yew my father rests his head :)
I had a lover once,—and kind, and true,
But mother, brother, lover, all are fled !
Yet, whence the tear which dims thy lovely eye?
Oh! gentle lady-not for me thus weep,

*This Quatorzain had its rise from an elegant Sonnet,

occa

sioned by seeing a young Female Lunatic," written by Mrs. Lofft, and published in the Monthly Mirror.

The green sod soon upon my breast will lie,
And soft, and sound, will be my peaceful sleep.
Go thou, and pluck the roses while they bloom-
My hopes lie buried in the silent tomb.

SONNET IV.

Supposed to be written by the unhappy Poet Dermody, in a Storm, while on board a Ship in his Majesty's service.

LO! o'er the welkin the tempestuous clouds
Successive fly, and the loud-piping wind
Rocks the poor sea-boy on the dripping shrouds,
While the pale pilot o'er the helm reclin❜d,
Lists to the changeful storm: and as he plies
His wakeful task, he oft bethinks him, sad,
Of wife, and little home and chubby lad,,
And the half-strangled tear bedews his eyes;
I, on the deck, musing on themes forlorn,

View the drear tempest, and the yawning deep,
Nought dreading in the green sea's caves to sleep,
For not for me, shall wife, or children mourn,
And the wild winds will ring my funeral knell,
Sweetly as solemn peal, of pious passing-bell.

SONNET V.

THE WINTER TRAVELLER.

GOD help thee, Traveller, on thy journey far;
The wind is bitter keen,-the snow o'erlays
The hidden pits, and dangerous hollow-ways,
And darkness will involve thee.-No kind star
To-night will guide thee, Traveller,-and the war
Of winds and elements, on thy head will break,
And in thy agonizing ear the shriek,
Of spirits howling on their stormy car,
Will often ring appalling-I portend

A dismal night—and on my wakeful bed
Thoughts, Traveller, of thee, will fill my head,
And him, who rides where wind and waves contend,
And strives, rude cradled on the seas, to guide
His lonely bark through the tempestuous tide.

SONNET VI.

BY CAPEL LOFFT, ESQ.

This Sonnet was addressed to the Author of this Volume, and was occasioned by several little Quatorzains, misnomered Sonnets, which he published in the Monthly Mirror. He begs leave to return his thanks to the much-respected Writer, for the permis sion so politely granted, to insert it here, and for the good opinion he has been pleased to express of his productions.

YE, whose aspirings court the muse of lays, ; "Severest of those orders which belong, "Distinct and separate, to Delphic song," Why shun the Sonnet's undulating maze? And why its name, boast of Petrarchian days, Assume, its rules disown'd? whom from the throng The muse selects, their ear the charm obeys

Of its full harmony:-they fear to wrong

The Sonnet, by adorning with a name

Of that distinguished import, lays, though sweet,
Yet not in magic texture taught to meet

Of that so varied and peculiar frame.
O think! to vindicate its genuine praise

Those it beseems, whose Lyre a favouring impulse sways.

« PreviousContinue »